


Love and Loss

by Fenchurch87



Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [9]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 18:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: Anders tries to comfort Marian Hawke after Leandra's death. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.





	Love and Loss

Anders watched the healing magic swirl around the young man's chest. Ignoring his growing exhaustion, he focused everything on the stab wound. Gradually the bleeding lessened and the skin began to knit back together. It was a slow, painful process, and Anders could feel more strength draining out of him with every minute that passed. He didn't dare work any faster though. The shortest lapse in concentration, the tiniest slip of the hands could mean death for the patient in front of him.

Finally his work was done and he released the spell. The room swayed around him, and he had to hold onto the table to stay upright. The refugee sat up with a gasp, staring at the smooth skin that now covered his chest where the wound had been. Anders let go of the table and hid his weariness with an effort.

“You're all set. Just make sure you stay on the Carta's good side from now on.”

The young man nodded, pulled on his shirt and hurried out of the clinic, pausing at the door for a brief “thank you”. Left alone, Anders stumbled into a chair and rubbed his eyes. That had been his last case of the day, thank the Maker. Now he had an hour to relax before meeting Varric at the Hanged Man for a game of Wicked Grace. Perhaps he would call in at home once his energy returned. He was eager to find out what trouble Hawke had managed to find today.

The sound of running footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see Varric barrelling through the door. The dwarf was red-faced and gasping for breath; he had clearly run some distance. Anders poured him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully.

“So desperate to see me that you ran all the way here? I'm touched, Varric.” Something in his friend's face stopped him from going any further. “What is it? Has something happened to Hawke?”

“You need to go home now.” Anders felt his chest tighten at Varric's tone. The feeling only grew worse as the dwarf continued. “It's Hawke – her mother's dead. She won't talk to anyone. She's locked herself in her bedroom and told Bodahn not to let anyone in. He doesn't like it, but he'll do whatever she says. She sent all of us away, but she shouldn't be alone at a time like this and you're the only one who might be able to get through to her.”

“Leandra's dead? What happened?”

“A crazy blood mage wanted her face so he could resurrect his dead wife. I really don't have time to explain this now. You need to–”

“A blood mage?” Anders could feel Justice in his head, fighting to gain control. He struggled to hold him back, but the spirit was too strong, and for a moment Anders lost himself to the rage. “Where is he? He will die for this!”

When the anger subsided, Varric had him by the shoulders and was shaking him. Hard. “Snap out of it, Blondie. The man is dead, and anyway revenge won't help Hawke now. You need to go to her. Quickly.”

Anders was out of his chair and running for the door before Varric had finished speaking, all his tiredness forgotten. As he rushed through the slums of Darktown, he struggled to process what had happened. Leandra Hawke had always been kind to him, and she had treated him almost like a son during the few months he had been living at the Hawke Estate. A blood mage. What a terrible way to die. Poor Leandra. Poor Hawke.

He reached the surface and continued running through the crowded Kirkwall streets, forcing several passersby to leap out of his way with a curse. Finally, the Hawke Estate loomed in front of him. He pushed open the door and raced up the stairs to Hawke's bedroom, where Bodahn was standing guard. He looked extremely relieved to see Anders.

“Messere,” he called as he tapped on Hawke's door. “Anders is here.”

“Tell him to go away.” The flat, emotionless, dead voice that came through the door didn't sound like Hawke. Anders struggled to hold back another burst of rage at the man who had done this to the woman he loved. He felt helpless – what could he possibly do to make this better? But he had to try.

“I'm sorry, Anders.” Bodahn scratched his beard uncomfortably. “If she doesn't want to let you in, there's nothing I can do.”

“Bodahn, you must have a key to every room in the house? Surely you can open the door?”

Bodahn looked even more uncomfortable. “I do have a key, but I can't just open the door. I don't think she would like that.”

“Fetch the key,” Anders said, in a tone that allowed no argument.

Bodahn gave him a look that said “on your head be it”, but he fished a key out of his pocket and handed it to Anders. He turned the key in the lock as quietly as he could, entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him. “Hawke?”

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. She didn't look round when he came into the room, or when he approached the bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I failed her,” she said quietly in the same flat voice.

Anders sat next to her on the bed and gently stroked her back. “That's not true, love–“

“It is!” She turned to face him then, and he almost recoiled at the pain he saw in her green eyes. “I failed her, just like I failed Father, and Bethany, and Carver. Just like I'll fail you if you stay here. You should leave now, before I get you killed too.” He didn't move. “Go!” She almost screamed at him as she tried to push him away from her. He held his ground.

“I'm not going anywhere. You've always been there for me when I needed you. Even when I told you to leave, you stayed with me. And now I'm going to do the same for you. You need me, and I'm not leaving you.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She made another half-hearted attempt to push him away, but he could tell the fight had gone out of her. She rested her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

“Do you know what the last thing she said to me was? She said she was proud of me! What have I ever done to make her proud?” Hawke was crying now, her thin shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Anders held her closer and tried desperately to comfort her.

“I can think of a few things, Hawke. You returned the estate to its rightful owner, you exposed Captain Jeven for the crook that he is, you've made the streets of Kirkwall safer for everyone by dealing with all the thugs. Not to mention everything you've done for the mages.”

“But what does any of that matter when I can't even keep my own family safe? Mother, Father and Bethany are all dead because I failed them. And Carver would be dead too if you hadn't been there. This is what I do, Anders. I fail the people I love.”

“You haven't failed anyone, it's the world that's failed you. You don't deserve any of the terrible things that have happened to you. You are kind, and brave, and you aren't afraid to fight for what you believe in. But you are also strong. You've been through some terrible things, but you haven't let them defeat you. You're still here fighting for what's right, when anybody else would have given up long ago. And I know that this won't defeat you either. There will be a lot of pain, and sadness, and anger, but your strength will win out. You will get through this, and then you'll be back to making Kirkwall a better place.”

Hawke was still crying, but her sobs seemed to have lessened slightly. Anders took that for a good sign. He couldn't think of any more comforting things to say, so he just continued to stroke her hair, making vaguely soothing noises. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, but eventually Hawke grew calmer. She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I'm sorry, Anders,” she whispered.

“There's nothing to apologise for, love.” He kissed her forehead and gently wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks.

“Yes there is. I'm sorry I shouted, and I'm sorry I told you to leave. You were right. I needed you.” She kissed him softly on the lips. “Thank you for being here.”

 


End file.
